Reading a good book makes me happy. Having an organized, clean house makes me happy. Going on a date with Jeremy makes me happy. All of these things (and many more) are okay, but when they become my source of joy I find myself floundering.
When the boys listen, play together nicely, and behave like anything above barbarians, I’m happy. When they don’t, I find myself questioning everything God has called me to. I forget that He is my true source of joy and happiness and to put that on anyone else, especially 3 wild little boys, is too much to ask.
Jesus bore my sins because He loved me. That is something worth being joyful about, even on the unhappy-broken eggs and green hands-kinda days!